INSULTS FROM THE LAND DOWN UNDER

I have been flamed (but not defamed, as you will see). Over at the the Blunt Instrument, one of my favorite blogs, a gentleman who goes by the name of Greybeard said:

Mr Boylan: you Sir, are a vulgarian and a snob.

Now, isn’t that the nicest way of calling someone a jerk you have ever seen? It is beyond cool. The gentility and elegance of that insult lifts it beyond cool to the rarely achieved level of cugat (as in “that is soooo cugat, dude!”).

Australia has a long histroy of insulting each other which means when our represntatives in parliement want to slag off they have to do it in the nicest possible way while still appearling to an electroate made of thugs and uncooth vulgarians.

I am not like the Leader of the Opposition. I did not slither out of the Cabinet room like a mangy maggot…
– On John Howard

Like being flogged with a warm lettuce.
– On John Hewson

The Leader of the Opposition is more to be pitied than despised, the poor old thing. The Liberal Party ought to put him down like a faithful dog because he is of no use to it and of no use to the nation.
– On Andrew Peacock

Oh, way bother, Jenni? It is like you and I arguing to an Armenian that the best Kufteh in the world is in our small American town. I mean, as if. We may like what we are familiar with, but, really, what do we know from kufteh?

Barnes – Your tradition of political invective is nothing compared to the restrained nastiness of the British. I was watching Question Hour on the telly and heard this guy get up and basically say “My learned colleague, the right honorable representative from Hampshire, sleeps with goats (reaching into coat pocket) I have some pictures here….”

My favourite of recent times was Mark Latham, describing the Liberals under John Howard as a “conga-line of suckholes”. It’s not mannered, no — but it’s quite beautiful in an elementally evocative way.

I’m impressed, Paul, that you got “vulgarian” and “snob” in the same broadside. That’s quite a broad brush the beardmeister’s wielding.

Flint – My first step-father was Armenian. I vividly and fondly remember dinner every single Sunday at his parents’ home where the whole extended Armenian family would have sit down together at a really, really long table and enjoy the best damned meal of the week. Khofta (as you spell it) was commonly featured. Damn, do I miss all of that. I haven’t had decent Armenian food since my very brief time in Soviet Armenia.

Since that outburst of wholly unjustified opprobrium, I have come to realise that you are indeed a Gentleman and a Scholar – and there aren’t many of us left. Pray accept my deepest apologies. (Also for the Turkish Eunuch comment. And . . . well, all of them). And I do have a blog – now reactivated – at Greybeard’s Grumbling. My sole talent.